


A Possible Mistake

by Umeko_Zoul



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Feedback may effect story, I'm always open to suggestions!, Implied Relationships, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Rare Pairings, Recovery, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Violence, title may change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-05 11:06:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11012178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umeko_Zoul/pseuds/Umeko_Zoul
Summary: Just because a mission is planned does not mean that it will go wonderfully.





	A Possible Mistake

_**Missions are not made to be successful. They are made to be a grueling torturous nightmare that engulfs every fiber of your being until there is nothing left but your goal; to make the mission stop... to complete the reason you came in the first place. There is no telling what can be found, lost, or renewed before nor during these missions. No, you never know until the task has spat you out on the pavement and left you to dry in the sun, and you're lying there, contemplating why you agreed to this in the first place. Was there ever really an answer to why we fight? Possibly. The proof is in the pudding. The true question is... does everybody get to see that answer?** _

_**I think about this a lot.** _

_**Then, of course, I get the answer. That is a definite no. Everybody knows that everyone dies. Not everybody makes it out to see the end, no matter how hard they fight.** _

_**This fact can corrupt us all, but oddly enough, only a select few end up being taken down into the abyss. An old friend of mine, Gabriel Reyes, is one of the fallen. I cannot say I didn’t do my best, but I also knew the risks that would follow such drastic measures. The breakdown, the contagion, the agony. But there was no telling at the moment. No time to test. Now or never.** _

_**He is gone now.** _

_**I reflect on this daily; I know exactly what could’ve been done to avoid the possibility. I simply had to wait to further develop my technology.** _

_**Call me selfish, but I didn’t want to wait. He was going to die.** _

_**I guess it can be said that now, he is better off dead. A walking corpse is not exactly something to be proud of being, and the cycle of rot must get over annoying even in the best of times. However, despite being a corpse… Gabriel wasn’t exactly dead. Considering the rules of living things in Biology, he can be considered living.** _

_**Living things are made of cells, and his are just decomposing in a hectic pattern.** _

_**Living things obtain and use energy, and his energy comes from a factor I cannot trace. Not yet, at least.** _

_**Living things grow and develop; personally, I consider Gabe’s transformation a development.** _

_**Living things reproduce… His cells do most of this.** _

_**Living things respond to their environment, but Gabriel is hyperaware.** _

_**Living things adapt to their environment-** _

_**Despite his disappearance, despite his death, I think about this daily.** _

“Angela.”

A voice resonates from outside her thoughts, and a pair of deep blue eyes snap up to meet another’s. They’re brown eyes, ones that hold the very definition of tired. Shagged brunette locks fall over the speaker’s eyes, a dry smile plastered on a messy face. He smells of alcohol, and a strong one at that. It’s almost intoxicating by smell. And with not much to hide it besides a quick brush of the gums and canines, the breath that leaks between the teeth of a sleepy grin give a hint of mint. It’s repulsive.

The doctor greets Jesse with a smile of her own. He doesn’t seem to notice the look in her eyes that reads disapproval; he’s seen it enough times to grow desensitized. That, or he’s too tired to process it. Angela straightens up in her chair, beginning to notice the rest of the group is awake. Winston was calmly setting up a plate of food for Lena, who seemed to be chatting away on her phone. There was mumbles and giggling from behind, only for that to be Mei. What was she doing up so early? Beside Mei stood Genji, and with him, the rest of the recruits were entering. Some were obvious morning people, chirping good mornings and chuckling at the little things. Admirable.

“Good morning, Angela.” Genji coos, a gentle wave coming from a nonchalant posture. Perhaps it was a good morning for the cyborg; normally his chatting sticks to one person, but oddly enough after some small talk, he gave Jesse a reluctant greeting as well. Their exchange of words was curt, with Genji hiding irritation and Jesse simply being disinterested. Those two never got along anymore, no matter how much they tried to. It was quite sad to see, honestly. They used to be so close.

Genji had left, leaving McCree and Angela at the table with Mei. Her hair was a mess, eyes shaded with dark circles. She had slept well, and yet always looked like this in the morning. It was quite surprising to see how she would snap back from exhaustion to be the normal giggly teddy bear most knew her as. Mei was grasping at the counter nearby, hand settling on a light blue mug of black coffee. Muttering a thank you to nobody, she began to sip the beverage, trudging directly out of the kitchen and down the hall. This was just like any other morning. Since recall, that is.

Ten minutes passed, and McCree was still here. His eyes were now a sunken chocolate brown that dripped with sticky invisible tears of the last whiskey he had downed before crawling from bed. He was beginning to come back, but bits were still left behind. He'll pick them up later. Or perhaps not; today seemed like it was going to be another do-nothing day. On days like this lots of the recruits would be inactive. Except for a few such as Genji or Lena. McCree, however, would be face down in a pillow on the couch of the lounge room, or flopped halfway on his bed. Either way, he was going to embrace the slow day. A day where “nothing” happened.

There were a few things that made it a little different each day in the kitchen; either somebody would join or another would sleep in. It never really mattered... This place was like a kid's club more than an organization. It wasn't fun at all. We all itched to begin change, to make Overwatch just as great as it used to be. But it

Winston made daily promises of locating direct issues for them to investigate, but by nightfall, there was nothing to report. The attacks and issues were just so sporadic that, in a sense, Angela didn't blame him for being unable to pick just one. Overwatch now was so small that things had to be done one by one. It was like trying to contain a plague; seems so impossible, but expanding too much could accidentally make things worse by spreading the problem while quarantining it. It wasn't going to do much. If only he understood this.

McCree is on his feet now, leaving Angela at the table. With half lidded eyes he's watched, closely. A mechanical hand skims across the marble of the counter, listening to the sharp sound it made. He watches the food a moment, as if expecting it to do something, then reaches for an apple. It's unimpressive; there's bruises and it seems rather aged, but he washes it off without a care and sinks his teeth into it. Holding it in his mouth he lowers his hand again, grabbing a glass from the dishes rack. A pause, Jesse's eyes staring down at the glass almost reluctantly before mumbling something to himself and beginning to walk out of the room.

“Bye, Angela.” She imagined him saying, a sigh pouring from her nose. Alcoholics were never her favorite.

The most good the cowboy ever seems to do regarding his addiction was hide it from the younger recruits. He never did the ridiculous locking-it-in-a-cabinet method. Instead, Jesse would make sure he never even let the others see him drink as much as he does. Whenever he does bring out liquor, it is always the weakest of beverages. Other than that, his stronger substance is kept in his room, where it's locked away for his sad self to wallow in. The only proof of him drinking it being the smell of his breath, which would somehow be the first thing Angela recognizes from him. Not exactly flattering.

Upon his disappearance down the hall, Angela finds herself suddenly alone in the kitchen. It was funny in a sense, due to the fact she had been one of the first few people to have entered the room. Perhaps she was daydreaming a little too much. Such a habit to break. It would require her to have something to actually focus on. She used to have her work back in Switzerland, tragically abandoned when Recall brought her to where she was now. It wasn't like she hated this place, definitely not... It was just so boring. Her existence was to help, but how could she now that her contract with this organization was renewed? Angela knew her name was back on the list for headhunting, and with hundreds (possibly thousands) of people who would smite her on sight, it wasn't like it would be safe to start her way back. It was hard enough to get here unnoticed.

The blonde considers standing up and leaving, but just as she does so, an intercom clicks on, and she turns to the nearest speaker. Nothing comes from it; the only noise it makes is the second click, implying it had hung up. Pressing her lips into a thin line, Angela begins to clean up nearby messes. Discarded wrappers, plates, a few cups... While she was handling them, her mind was wandering yet again. Who was on the intercom? Was there a particular reason for it? Why did they hang up? What on Earth was going to be said? Eventually her own curiosity bores her enough to just finish cleaning and leave the kitchen, heading back to her room with a blank face.

Nobody else was in the hallway the entire walk there. She had pondered where they were while she strolled, stopping her thoughts the moment she reached the door to her room. Opening it and quietly shutting it behind her, Angela immediately flopped onto her bed. Not to sleep, but to think.

Comfortably.

With her eyes closed.

And snoring.

A sudden knock on the door startled her into a sitting position, eyes scanning the room. There was another knock, and she mustered up the energy to open the door. With a small grunt, she gave the greeter a weak smile. It took a moment for the Swiss to realize it was Winston. Her posture changed from sluggish to casual. Giving the scientist a more brighter smile, Angela waved.

“How can I help you?”

“Ah! Angela, I was going to call you through the intercom, but I decided to keep things more secretive.” He gave a toothy grin, glasses sliding down at an awkward angle. “I have a job for you and a select few. If you would only follow me...” Turning away, he began to walk down the hall, the doctor following behind him.

“Winston, what is it that you need? I assume that we could have discussed it privately right where we were. If it is about any studies, I am sure-”

“No, no... It's none of that.” He huffed, pushing up the lenses. “I have a better job for you. In fact, I think we can call it your first mission as of now. I have few things in mind, but I need to narrow down the plans so we can actually make this our most significant and most successful mission.” Winston lowered his voice, noticing how loudly his voice was echoing through the halls. Was there an issue with this mission that kept him from being open about it? Who was even going on this mission with her? Certainly she wasn't going to be doing this task on her own; he wasn't an idiot. Far from it. Winston is, in fact, brilliant. Just new to this leadership business. At least he was trying.

More steps filled the hall, and Angela had realized he was quiet again. Her mouth opened, but he began talking before her input was given.

“I need you to be completely honest during this meeting, especially since you were talking to some... important people.” He glanced at her as he spoke, the Gorilla showing small signs of nervousness. Poor guy... Must be stressing himself out, and this “mission” hasn't even started. “I cannot stress enough that this mission, if successful, will bring the world's attention on Overwatch. Not to mention that it'll stir quite the amount of-”

“Hatred?” She interrupts, unsure as to why she did this. “How about enemies? We have plenty even under the radar, so why not add on to our collection?”

“Dr. Ziegler- Angela... I know your concerns, I know your moral standpoint.” Winston rolls his shoulders, huffing by her sudden sass. “However as leader, I am the one making these decisions. I am going to do my best to try and avoid another disbanding. Besides...” Her eyes widened when he abruptly stops, turning to face a door she hadn't even noticed. “Save your attitude for the discussion. Now...” He holds up a hand, motioning her to turn around. She does so, hearing the beeping of the door's keypad lock. While waiting, Angela takes note of her surroundings.

This wasn't like the basic halls; the silvery white was replaced with a cobalt blue, the walls blanker than a fresh sheet of construction paper. It wasn't decorated with pictures, nor was it dirtied by anything. Drawings by mischievous individuals weren't sketched into the color. It actually looked freshly clean. The floor was almost the same, with marble tiles and a polished glow that would likely annoy those who wore glasses. The spots on the tiles were all one color, oddly making the spots blur into strange blotches on the ground rather than lovely design.

A click can be heard, and she turns on her heels and pauses, waiting to be permitted to enter. He jerks his head a bit, and she follows him into the room. Her foot lands on something solid; a small cube. He glances back at her and raises a brow, pushing the doctor to dismiss it. Then she stepped on another item. A crumbled piece of paper. While the light is dim, Angela can make out that the floor around her was more than a mess, which definitely wasn't like the normally methodical scientist. Brushing a few strands of stray hair from her eyes, she continues on, but brings up her question.

“Winston, why is this place a mess?”

“I had a feeling you were going to say that, doctor.” Winston awkwardly chuckles, looking anywhere but the floor. “And it's not what you think. Somebody kicked over a trash can because he is uh... Not too keen on being brought here.” Clearing his throat, the gorilla tilts his head back. “Athena, are you listening?” A screen appears beside Angela, who was still distracted by the scattered remains of research and peanut butter jars that rolled on the floor.

“What is it, Winston?” The room pipes up before pausing. “Hello, Dr. Angela Ziegler.” Giving the screen a wave, Angela smiles in response.

“I need you to turn on the lights, I don't think she is accustomed to this sort of lighting. Plus... This mess could use some cleaning.” The room slowly brightens, giving the both of them time to adjust. The room was a lot bigger than expected, with computers scattered on blue walls and gray desks, with black wheeled chairs pushed too far from both. She noted that some were even broken, the backs being at weird angles or an arm being missing. It seemed bothersome to look at, so Angela pulled her attention to something else. Across the room is a door, seeming to be the one that Winston was approaching.

“Thank you, Athena. How are our guests doing?” Winston looks around. “Uh... Angela, I should inform you, I did a little bit of searching, and Athena managed to find an individual who did the honor of finding a few old friends of ours. By the way, Athena... Did you make sure our security is-”

“Yes, as far as we know, our source remains 'safe.' Even if she tries anything suspicious, I will handle it and be sure to eradicate every trace of us. Not without notifying you, of course.”

“Thank you, Athena...” He stops in front of the door, flashing Angela a smile before opening the door. Before she even walks in, she hears a mixture of chuckles. One soft and another gruff. A gentle voice coos to Angela, who stares with a shocked expression. Her face was drained of color, mind taking a moment to actually process who she was looking at.

“It's been too long, Angela.”

**Author's Note:**

> Be sure to leave a comment! :)


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